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I pulled out a drawer, picked up another knife and carried it with me. Her footsteps resounded as we headed out to the rear of the garage. I stopped at a locked door, punched in the code and opened it. Lights buzzed overhead with the movement as the door thudded closed. The faint scent of sweat and gun oil still lingered. Underneath it blood.

“What is this place?” She whispered.

Walls of weapons. Knife marks in the training dummies. Old impact damage marked the padded walls. I unbuttoned my sleeves and rolled.

“If you’re going to carry a blade…” I turned to face her. “Learn to use it properly.”

I flicked open the blade, spun it in my palm and held it out to her, hilt first.

She didn’t move. Her breaths stilled. I could almost feel her panic. Then slowly she took a step forward. Her fingers were warm, brushing light as she took the weapon.

“Okay.” She murmured. “Show me how.”

Her body trembled as I stepped around her, gently taking her wrists. “Closer.” My mouth hovered near her ear. “If they can grab your wrist, you’re already dead.”

The heat of her body pressed lightly against my chest.

Her breathing quickened.

Her pulse hammered violently beneath my fingertips.

Mine stayed deadly calm.

I dragged my fingers slowly along her arm before forcing her elbow tighter against her ribs.

“Tighter.” I murmured. “Don’t give them space.”

I turned her wrist carefully.

Guided the blade lower.

Closer.

Then drove her hand forward sharply.

“Close enough to touch you means close enough to bleed.”

She shivered against me.

I pressed closer without thinking.

“They’ll expect you to panic.” My hand tightened around her wrist. “Use that.”

Again.

Her breath caught sharply.

“They won’t expect you to fight back.” I guided the knife lower toward soft targets. “That hesitation?”

Again.

“That’s where they die.”

My own breathing deepened unexpectedly.

I stilled.

This was becoming dangerous.